


Finding Pie

by ANobleCompanion



Series: Chasing Pie [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food, Gabriel is helpful, M/M, cook!Dean, food critic!Cas, so much food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has been looking for Dean for almost two months now. But what will happen when he finally finds him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo. Last week was rough in terms of getting writing done. It was my birthday (which was awesome) AND I started two new jobs (not so awesome). By Sunday I was exhausted and I decided that you guys would survive if I was a little late with an update. 
> 
> And then I realized. TODAY IS PI DAY. I can't NOT finish this series on PI DAY. So yes. Here you go. 
> 
> Keep in mind I wrote ALL of this in about four hours. I'm sure there are errors at the moment. Please forgive my enthusiasm. I will read through and edit this weekend!

Castiel was frustrated. He’d been in San Francisco for three weeks now and had no new leads on Dean. He’d checked out no fewer than twenty restaurants and no one had so much as heard of the man, not even as an applicant looking for work. 

Surely he hadn’t come across the first trace of his best friend in close to two decades, followed him halfway across the country, only to lose him again? Fate couldn’t be that cruel. Could it?

He had to hand it to San Francisco. There were some interesting food choices in the city. Some of the most unique he’d ever come across. Probably the most memorable had been the purportedly “haunted” restaurant. The two men that ran the place had set up a website to track the movements of the ghost and posted stories about the supposed history and encounters along the walls. He noted that all of the encounters had been from the owners themselves. He’d declined to try the recommended dessert - organic brownies - after the cook asked him if he was Jesus Christ. 

None of it had actually gotten him closer to his goal. Cas had started to branch out from his initial search parameters. Rather than looking at full restaurants and diners, he was also starting to look in more specialized shops as well. He initially included deli’s in that new focus, but Crowley had called him up after the first article and bruskly reminded him that while the search for Dean was an interesting twist, the agreed upon focus was  _ desserts _ , which most deli’s were not exactly known for. Cas ground his teeth and stopped in several delis to enquire, but refrained from actually stopping to review. 

Instead, he’d started to look for small hole in the wall bakeries and delicatessens. Cas quickly became both grateful and resentful of the famously hilly terrain. While trekking over the city was exhausting, at least he wasn’t suffering from the side effects of one too many cupcakes.  

Spotting his next target across the street,  _ Oh Sweet Heaven _ , Cas glanced in both directions before picking up a slight jog to dodge oncoming traffic. He wasn’t quite fast enough for one car, and he held up his hand apologetically as they blared their horn for his benefit. 

He was sure his extended search thrilled Crowley. It kept the readers wanting more. And he had readers. While Crowley had been reluctant to admit the successful turnaround of the column, Meg had assured him that his, “heartfelt hunt for his unicorn,” was bringing in new readers in droves. 

_ Well _ , he thought as he hopped the curb onto the sidewalk,  _ at least someone is benefitting from my struggle. _

Looking up, Cas took in the front of  _ Oh Sweet Heaven _ for the first time. The window front was framed in hand painted piles of sweets of almost every shape and flavor with a light dusting of speckled white that was reminiscent of snow frosting effect people used to decorate glass during the holidays, but here, looking more like a coating of powdered sugar. He was amused to note that the door handles on the double door met to create a giant round peppermint. 

Grabbing the right half of the mint, Cas pulled the door open to step inside, a small bell over his head announcing his arrival to whatever staff might be on hand that day. 

He was immediately assaulted by the smell of  _ sweet _ . He could detect underlying, individual flavors of citrus, chocolate, and as the door implied, mint, but the overwhelming sense was that sugar hung in the very air. Between the overwhelming number of display cases, and the bright, cheery decor, Cas imagined that this place was every little kid’s dream and every parent’s method of bribery. Since it was still mid-morning on a school day, he had the place to himself. 

“I’ll be right with you!” a slightly muffled voice called from the back.

Cas didn’t bother to respond, but decided to examine the display cases while he waited. The variety of options was impressive, ranging from baked goods that were likely made fresh daily, to a selection of what looked like handmade chocolates and candies. 

“So!” What can I help you with today?” 

Cas looked up to see a man, just shy of average height, with dark blonde hair cut slightly long and curling at his neck and remarkably golden eyes watching him with his hands on his hips and a playful look on his face.

“Well,” said Cas, carefully, “I’m hoping you can help me in two ways actually.” 

The man behind the counter cocked one eyebrow while his lips twitched in amusement. Clearly he’d expected to take Cas’ order and be done with it. 

“First, I have no idea what to choose today and was hoping you would give me a recommendation based on what you think is your best selection.” 

The man snorted. “Narrows it down. I don’t serve anything that’s not good. What’re you in the mood for?” 

Cas narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, unsure of how to answer. Honestly he was irritable and tired of reviewing restaurants without getting any closer to his goal. He didn’t really want to think about what he actually  _ wanted _ at this point. 

“It’s one of those days is it?” the man asked, without waiting for Cas to actually respond. “Pick me up food, got it.” He leaned a step back and looked Cas up and down as though he was assessing him. 

“You look like a scone guy to me. With jam and a dollop of fresh cream and a cup of tea.”

Cas was shaking his head before the man had even finished. “No jam. Jelly, or better yet, honey, if you have it, but I have...an aversion to jam.” It was true. It was one of the few foods he could not tolerate. He related it back to one of his first cooking experiences as a child. He had been about six, and he’d wanted to make pasta, just like Mary Winchester. He’d thought the jam was the same  _ color _ as her tomato sauce, so his young mind had equated it the same. He’d been wrong. The overall experience had been a disaster and he’d never been able to appreciate jam the same way again. 

The man shrugged his shoulders, clearly not offended. “Hey, got most of it right. Honey and cream it is.” 

The conversation, for what it was, dropped to a lull while the man prepared Cas’ order. Cas took the opportunity to look around the shop more while he waited. 

The dining area wasn’t large - there were far more display cases than there were tables, and Cas supposed most of the clientele were of the “to-go” variety. There were still four small, round tables; the kind that could seat two comfortably and three in a pinch. The tables themselves were simple, with clear acrylic tops with flyers highlighting other local businesses and events. The chairs were colorful and reminiscent of a 1950’s diner with the plastic cushion. The light fixtures were probably the most interesting feature. They looked like small puffy clouds, but each held a different color bulb along with a standard white bulb, which gave them more of the effect of soft cotton candy. 

“Here ya go,” the man said, offering over a plate holding a quite frankly enormous, fluffy looking scone with a generous scoop of cream and artfully drizzled with honey. On the counter next to him, sat a steaming mug of tea. From the label draped over the rim, Castiel noted appreciatively that it was earl gray. 

“Thank you…” 

“Gabriel, but just call me Gabe. And no problem. I think you said there was something else I could help you with. Would you like that now? Or do you want to eat first?”   
Cas figured he might as well get the standard question out of the way. 

“I was wondering if you’d recently, within the last month, hired on new employment? Most likely someone looking for temporary hire? Tall man, about 6 feet, maybe a bit more. Named Dean. Even if you didn’t hire him, maybe he passed through looking for a job?” 

Though Cas was already expecting it, he couldn’t help the slump of his shoulders when Gabe shook his head thoughtfully. “Sorry, man, can’t say I have. 

“Well, thank you anyway,” Cas said, trying to keep the dejection from his voice as he turned to take his scone and tea to a table. 

“Wish I could be more help there. If there’s anything else you need, just shout. I’ll be in the kitchen minding my cookies.” 

Cas nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t respond verbally. 

He sat down out the table as Gabe retreated to the back. Sighing heavily to himself, Cas rubbed his fingers over his eyes, bringing them together to pinch his nose. Every day this felt more and more like a lost cause. He stared morosely down at the table, not really seeing what was in front of him, and not bothering to eat his scone. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, one of the flyers caught his attention. He wasn’t sure what it was that made him look more closely. The graphic was simple - the name,  _ Mary’s _ , in a cursive script designed to resemble a signature rather than a font. It was advertising a new restaurant opening in a week. Cas made a double take when the actual date registered. November 2. Cas knew that date well. After all, he’d basically lost his family that day too. He did the math in his head and realized that this November 2, just one week away, would mark exactly twenty years since Mary Winchester died. That  _ couldn’t  _ be coincidence. 

“Hey, Gabe?” Cas called, tentatively. He was almost afraid to ask, afraid to hope. 

Gabe stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Yep? Need something?” He frowned slightly when he realized Cas hadn’t touched the scone yet, but didn’t say anything. 

“This flyer - the one for _Mary’s_ \- what can you tell me about it?”   
“ _Mary’s_? New joint. Opening up about a block over. I’m actually pretty good friends with the owners, Sam and Jess Winchester. Sam’s a health nut, but he’s got a massive sweet tooth. I helped him and Jess eat their way through their undergrad over at Stanford.”

_ Winchester _ .  _ Sam Winchester.  _ Cas could feel his heart beating a little harder. “Can you tell me a bit more?” 

Gabe shrugged and nodded. “Sure, I guess. What do you want to know?” 

Cas wracked his brain. The opening day of the restaurant was on the flyer, did he want to try and go before their official launch? If it  _ was _ his Sam Winchester, the one he’d thought of as a little brother, he’d found part of his family. And Dean was surely only a phone call away at that point. 

“What kind of restaurant will it be? Do you know anything about Sam’s family? How did they pick the name  _ Mary’s _ ? Can you…” 

“Whoa, whoa whoa!” Gabe said holding his hands up, smirk evident on his face. He paused, thinking for a second, clearly trying to decide whether Castiel was a nut job, before lifting a flap in the counter that separated the front of the store from the retail area and nodding to the table. 

“Sit, compadre, and eat your damn scone and I’ll answer your questions.”   
Cas immediately did as instructed, pressing his fork into the treat and quickly scooping it into his mouth. His intention was to swallow quickly to convince Gabe to start talking, but the burst of sweet flavor on his tongue made him pause and savor the bite. 

Gabe pursed his lips together and his smile grew at Cas’s reaction to his food. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Knew you were a scone guy.” 

Cas rolled his eyes and waved his fork at Gabe to encourage him to continue talking as he ate. 

“So. Sam and Jess. Like I said, they were both students at Stanford. Both pre-law actually. Neither made it through. Decided pretty quickly it wasn’t for them. Sam switched to business and Jess switched to marketing. They were both in here often enough and Sam was  _ constantly _ waxing poetic about his mother’s food. Especially her pie. By the way, that’s where the name of their place comes from. Mary was Sam’s mother.” 

Cas’ eyes never left Gabe’s face while he spoke. He continued to eat, and to sip his tea as necessary, but he didn’t want to interrupt. 

“So yeah. Sam wanted to open a place based on his mom’s cooking. So it’s a homestyle restaurant. You go in and you’re meant to feel like you’re sitting down at a kitchen table. They’ve done a great job with the joint - you really need to go when they open.” 

Cas nodded. He’d be there, no doubt about that. 

“Took them a few years to raise the funds for the place. Plus neither Sam nor Jess can cook for shit. Sam’s brother - haven’t met him yet - is gonna take over the kitchen for them.”

While he tried to keep his face neutral, Cas stopped breathing for almost a full thirty seconds. Dean. That’s why he hadn’t been able to find Dean. Dean was coming here. To help Sam. They were both here, together, in their own restaurant. They, just like Cas, were still tied to Mary through the foods they all shared together around that table in Kansas. 

Gabe continued, unaware of the effect his words were having on Cas. “To hear Sam tell it, he inherited all their mother’s skill in the kitchen. Their dad was kind of a dead beat anyway, so I’m sure part of that came along because Sam’s brother was always cooking for him.”   
Cas frowned. He’d gotten some impression of this from Alex and Claire too. He didn’t have as many memories of John Winchester. He’d rarely been home, even when his wife was alive, and then he’d packed up his sons and left within a week. That alone was enough to skew Cas’ memories of him, but it hurt to know that John had apparently also denied his sons any kind of stable home life after the loss of his wife. 

“So, yeah. I think that covered your questions. Got anything else for me?” 

_ Where do they live? Do you have a phone number? Do they even remember me? _ Cas knew Gabe couldn’t answer the last question and he didn’t want to ask the first two. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do. What if Dean had never actually missed him? Or had gotten over moving away so long ago, he never even thought about the boy who’d been left behind? 

Mutely, he shook his head. He took another sip of tea and cleared his throat. Eyes cast down at the table, still fixed on the flyer, he replied, “No, thank you. I appreciate the information.” 

Slapping a hand on the table Gave stood up. “Glad I could help. Now. Answer one thing for me. Why are you so interested? Like I said, Sam and Jess are good friends of mine. Someone asking after them like you just did? Gotta wonder.” 

“I…” Cas looked up and away before meeting Gabe’s eyes again. “I’m a food critic. I’m kind of doing a cross country thing at the moment.” He lifted the plate, now devoid of scone, “Actually focusing on desserts and was hoping you’d let me feature your place as well. I was just interested because I’m always keeping my eyes out for new places to eat. And new restaurants can always use the publicity a good review might bring.” 

He stomped down on the writhing part of his stomach as he turned on his writer mode to interview Gabe. He’d figure out how to approach Dean later.

* * *

 

The week passed and Cas still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say to Dean. Or even Sam for that matter. How did he explain he’d followed the man across the country? And publically documented it? 

They were going to think he was insane. 

But he’d come too far to back down now. And Castiel realized, this was something he needed. Even if the brothers rejected him, he needed some kind of closure. And while Mary might not have been his actual mother, he’d lost a lot that night twenty years ago too. It seemed fitting that he spend it with the Winchesters. Even if they didn’t know him. 

The evening of November 2nd found Cas on the sidewalk in front of  _ Mary’s _ . The restaurant was in an old, repurposed house. The porch light was turned on, making the front door look warm and inviting on a night with a mild bite in the air. 

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward to open the front door. 

They had clearly kept the charm of the house, not trying to mess with the floor plan in an effort to make diners feel at home. Glancing around, Cas could see tables set up in the living room, but also in the traditional dining room. He suspected the theme continued upstairs in the areas that would normally be bedrooms. The room that looked like it was intended to be a study stood just off the main entrance and had been repurposed to serve as a waiting area, outfitted with a couch and several comfortable looking chairs. He had come early, right at opening and before any major dinner rush, both hoping to have a chance to talk to the brothers, and wanting less of an audience for his potential embarrassment should he have to make a hasty retreat, so there was no one occupying the space yet. 

Just as he was shutting the door quietly behind him, a young woman, tall with wavy blonde hair walked up to the hostess stand in the hallway and grabbed a menu, flashing him him a bright smile. 

“Good evening! Welcome to  _ Mary’s  _ opening night! Are you alone?” 

Cas wanted to run, but he was glued to the floor. He must have looked a bit like a deer in headlights, because she tilted her head slightly and softened her eyes. “Are you alright?” 

“What?” Cas blinked. “Oh yes, I’m fine, thank you. And yes. I’m alone.” Right now he hated that word. 

“Alright, well, if you please follow me, I’ll set you at one of our tables in the living room. My name’s Jess by the way.” 

“Jess? Are you Sam’s wife?” Cas asked, before thinking. 

Jess blinked before nodding and looking at him curiously. “Do you know Sam?” 

“I - A long time ago. I don’t know if he’d even remember me to be honest.” 

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? I didn’t think Sam had a whole lot of friends growing up. His dad moved him around so much. Would you like me to go get him for you? I bet he’d love to catch up.” 

Cas felt a flash of panic. This was it. The nerves must have shown on his face, because Jess laughed, not unkindly, and patted his shoulder. 

“Jeeze. He must have made some impression on you. I swear. I know he’s a big guy, but he’s all teddy bear.” 

“Sam’s big?” The words sounded stupid, even to his ears. Obviously Sam wouldn’t still be the size of the six year old in his memories. But that Sam had been such a small thing. It hadn’t occurred to him that the man would wind up being more than average build. 

“It  _ has  _ been a while, huh? Go ahead and take a seat. Oh! And here’s a menu. Feel free to look it over while I go grab him.” She started to walk away before turning smartly on her heel to face him. 

“I almost forgot, what’s your name?” 

He hesitated. “Cas. Castiel Novak.” 

She nodded, looked up as though committing it to memory, nodded again and left. 

Cas was far too nervous to look at the menu. Now he wished he’d come later. There were only two other groups in the restaurant that he could see, and one of those groups was in the dining room. There was very little to distract him as he waited for Sam Winchester to remember him or not. 

He looked down and worried his thumb over a knot on the table in front of him. It looked like it might have been purchased at a thrift store and lovingly restored. It was small, the kind you might see in a breakfast nook. Perfect for one or two people. 

The sound of multiple feet clattering quickly over worn wooden floorboards had him looking up. Two men moved towards him, both with similar looks of shock on their face. Cas stood to greet them, taking in details about them as he did. The man in the lead was  _ enormous _ . He made Cas’ six feet look short. His hair was shoulder length and flipped out with a light fuzz on his face. When he saw Cas, his face broke into an enormous smile. In that smile, Cas could see the remnants of the six year old he’d once known. This was Sam. That must mean the man behind him was Dean. 

Before he could confirm, Sam’s arms engulfed him in a warm hug that Cas thought might actually break his heart. His brain stuttered to a halt at the affection in the action. 

The body around him huffed a laugh and said over his shoulder, “Dude. This is the part where you hug back.” 

Brain kicking into gear, Cas laughed too and wrapped his arms around Sam. 

“Sam. It’s good to see you again.” 

His eyes searched over Sam’s shoulder to meet Dean’s.

Dean’s face was still stunned. His eyes holding so many emotions that Cas couldn’t interpret. He had no way of knowing whether Dean was happy to see him or not. He felt a hard cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach. 

Sam pulled away and held him at arm's’ length. “How’re you doin’, man. Hell, how did you even find us?” 

Cas flushed and glanced over at Dean again. 

“Your, uh, your brother actually.” 

Dean, who still hadn’t said anything, blinked twice rapidly in succession and pulled his head back a little. 

Sam, who seemed to have forgotten Dean was behind him turned and looked at his brother, confusion clear. “Dean? You didn’t say anything about running into Cas.” 

“Cuz I didn’t, man.” 

Dean still hadn’t actually greeted him. Cas still didn’t even know if he was welcome, but he was desperate to explain himself. 

“I’m still in Lebanon. Well, I have been up until the last two months.” He turned to Dean. “You passed through around mid-September. Worked at Benny’s for about a week?” 

“Yeah. I remember the place. The guy I replaced was a real dick. Couldn’t cook for shit.” 

Cas snorted. “So I discovered. But I stopped in while you were there, though I didn’t know it at the time. I had a piece of your mom’s apple pie. When I went back and found out  _ you _ had been the one to make it, I was thrilled. I mean. You  _ left _ .” 

Cas didn’t mean it to come out as accusatory as it did. After all, it wasn’t exactly Dean’s decision to move away. But some part of Cas was still that little boy who’d been left behind. 

Sam glanced between the two and seemed to sense that they needed to talk. 

“Hey. This is a story I need to hear, but I’ve also got a restaurant to run - opening night, you know? Dean, take your time. We’ve got Jo in the kitchen too and we’re not busy yet. She’ll cover you for however long you need.” 

He turned to Cas and leveled a stare at him. “Don’t run off without saying goodbye, got it?” almost as though he could sense Cas’ flight or fight tendency rearing it’s head. 

Cas just nodded in return. 

Clapping him on the shoulder one more time, Sam left the room to give them some privacy. 

Sticking his hands in his front pockets and offering Cas a nervous, half smile, Dean muttered, “Hey, Cas.” 

Cas smiled softly back, “Hello, Dean.” 

Clearing his throat, Dean looked off to the side and then back at Cas again, frowning as though in an attempt to school his features. “So. You managed to figure out I was the cook? Why didn’t you say anything then?” 

“You’d already left. But Benny told me about Denver and his recommendation that you try Kate’s.”   
“So, what? You just followed me?” Dean asked, clearly still a little nervous. Cas didn’t blame him. 

He gestured to the seat opposite him. “Why don’t you sit down? This is a bit of a long story."

* * *

 

**_November 5 - Mary’s; San Francisco California_ **

_ When I started this journey about a month and a half ago, I was on a quest to find my long lost best friend. My family really. I’ve been to many places, tried a lot of food, and brought all of you along for the journey. Thank you for that. Your well wishes and encouragement have meant a great deal to me. Especially over the last few weeks.  _

_ While the first part of my journey seemed to go smoothly, with an easy trail of graham cracker crust to follow, when I hit San Francisco, I stalled. I lost the scent, so to speak. I was close to giving up. Sure, that in such a city, I would never manage to find Zeppelin again.  _

_ But readers, I think this journey was truly meant to be. Three days ago. Exactly twenty years after I lost my family, even if not by birth, I found them again.  _

_ Mary’s is a small, family business owned by brothers Sam and Dean Winchester, along with Sam’s wife, Jess. While Sam and Jess are responsible for the management and day to day operations of the business, as well as the front of the house, Dean Winchester is the cook. And, as you might guess, my friend Zeppelin.  _

_ Wednesday night, I entered a brand new restaurant on its opening night and I feel like I came home. The atmosphere of the restaurant didn’t hurt. It is in fact in a beautifully restored home that is decorated to make you feel as though you’re eating at your mother’s house for Sunday dinner. All of the recipes belonged to Mary Winchester, lovingly recorded and kept in a journal that was passed down to her son.  _

_ There is not a single item on this menu that I can find a word to speak against. And while it’s only been two days, and I haven’t actually had a chance to try everything on it - I had it all before. This is the food that made me love food.  _

_ Now that I’ve found Sam and Dean again, the mission that I set on six weeks ago is now complete. I wondered, if I ever reached this point, what I would do next. Fortunately, Dean helped me come up with a new plan.  _

_ This column will now run in weekly installments and will chronicle  _ Mary’s _ as she becomes a staple visit in San Francisco. The hope is not only to give some insight to anyone interested in the behind the scenes of the food business - and perhaps tips and advice to those hoping to start out on their own venture - but also to give you a sense of what I’ve found here.  _

_ Home.  _

_ Also. I highly recommend the apple pie.  _


End file.
